


The Urge

by matchst_ck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cussing, Falling In Love, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love, M/M, Magic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Year That Never Was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9327731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchst_ck/pseuds/matchst_ck
Summary: "The first time Harry felt theurgehe put it down to having piled too much bacon on his breakfast plate. That much salt could do bad things to a person’s health, he thought. Yes, that must explain the tingling sensation he felt start to stem from somewhere at the back of his neck."---Or that time that Harry decided to stalk Draco Malfoy... again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I started writing this a rather long time ago and I was doing one of those poke around your folders things and found it and while it's nothing new and it's an entirely unnecessary piece of fiction I do still quite like it. So, I do hope anyone that chooses to read it does enjoy it or it at least makes you chuckle :)

The first time Harry felt the _urge_ he put it down to having piled too much bacon on his breakfast plate. That much salt could do bad things to a person’s health, he thought. Yes, that must explain the tingling sensation he felt start to stem from somewhere at the back of his neck.

***

The next time Harry felt the _urge_ , he was trying to concentrate on Ron’s latest recount of the Cannons winning match against the Ballycastle Bats, in which case he had to figure it had nothing much at all to do with his salt intake. 

He looked around but there didn’t seem to be all that much amiss. Hermione was listing all of the potions ingredients – in order and amount – for brewing Veritaserum. Harry thought it sounded horribly difficult and it reinforced his understanding as to why Hermione was taking Advanced Potions classes and not him. 

His eyes roamed further afield. The Great Hall looked much larger when it wasn’t filled with as many students, the noise level not quite as deafening. Not all students had chosen to come back for their – now aptly named - 8th year after the defeat of good ol’ Voldemort. Harry had decided to return thinking maybe, hopefully he could finally have a normal year at Hogwarts. Or as normal as one could get at least when during his first week back he had managed to transfigure only half of his newt into a soap dish - _‘the dish is not meant to be able to walk away, Mr Potter’_ \- and had received at least three arched eyebrows from McGonagall since. 

The _‘urge’_ started tugging at the back of his neck again. He looked up only to find his eyes following a shock of almost white hair as it walked itself out of the great hall. 

***

The sixth time the _‘urge’_ creeped up on him he was ready. Ready for what, he wasn’t exactly sure but at this point he figured it had to do with Malfoy, and wasn’t that just the icing on top of the cake. It happened every time Malfoy left the hall during dinner. Harry took a bite of apple as he stood, pulling his robe out from under Neville’s backside.

“Where you off mate?” Ron looked up from his intense study of the latest copy of Quidditch Weekly.

“Not important. Meet you back at the common room?” Harry didn’t wait for an answer. Abandoning his apple he manoeuvred his way out of the great doors and managed to snag a glimpse of a retreating Malfoy headed up the stairs. Taking them two at a time he followed in quick pursuit. 

It wasn’t until he saw Malfoy turn the corner headed for the boys bathrooms that he stopped. Peeking his head around the corner his suspicions were confirmed when he saw Malfoy’s robes swishing through the bathroom door. It shouldn’t have aroused his interest really, Harry was fairly sure ‘bodily functions’ were not on his list of things that make him hot under the collar. The thing was, it was the same bathroom that they had fought in. The one where he had almost… he shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He couldn’t change what had happened but he had to wonder why Malfoy would want to go back there? It was true that since he had first spotted Malfoy on the first day of term that the blonde hadn’t really taken to talking to all that many people, most of the Slytherin house had decided not to return for a repeat of their final year. He couldn’t be that desperate for conversation that he’d want to talk to Moaning Myrtle could he?

Confused and not quite at all ready to face Malfoy _just-quite-yet-thank-you-very-much_ Harry made good on his words to Ron and headed back to the Gryffindor common room. 

***

Harry didn’t bother waiting for the urge the next time he saw Malfoy leave the hall at lunch. With a murmured excuse to Ron and Hermione and a tug to free his robe from under Neville again - who took up a lot more space on the bench now he had filled out over summer, helping rebuild the castle had obviously worked wonders for him - he was off in pursuit of the blonde.

This time he waited until Malfoy had entered the bathroom and then shuffled from his corner vantage point and hovered outside the closed door, pacing. What in Merlin’s name was Malfoy doing? It couldn’t be anything serious, he’d not heard of Malfoy putting a toe out of line since his trial. Then again, why did Harry care? It’s not like he’d popped over to the Manor during Malfoy’s months of house arrest offering an olive branch of friendship and to crack out the cards for a game of Exploding Snap. The noisy bustle of students headed to after lunch lessons brought his attention back to the fact that he’d been pacing the corridor for over half an hour. Glancing at the wood of the firmly closed door, he steeled his resolve to open it and go in, quickly chucked that idea out of the window when the acid in his stomach threatened to make an appearance and swiftly made his way to Charms class.

***

Grumbling to himself as he shifted around in the overly squashy and so very comfortable armchair in the Gryffindor common room, Harry tried to concentrate on his most recent reading for his Care of Magical Creatures class. _’Occamy: A guide to these most misunderstood creatures and those that care for them’,_ was a hefty book that featured a very harassed looking wizard stood by a cage with what looked like a rather angry snake-like bird with overgrown albatross wings.

Concentration wasn’t easy to find. His mind kept taking him back to lunchtime when he had been so bold this time, after following Malfoy once again, to press his ear to the door. All this had gotten him was a cold ear and absolutely no further to knowing what Malfoy was doing on the other side.

“Harry, mate. Where’ve you been?” Ron poked him in the knee with the tip of his wand.

“Sorry, Ron. Was a millions miles away.” Harry closed the book and turned to give his best friend his attention. 

“That’s what I mean, you’ve been like that for days now. You’ve missed all the fun! The lads have been betting on whose going to come top of the league. I told ‘em, the Cannons have been having such a good run this season!” Ron shook his head, waving a dismissive hand in the direction of Dean and Seamus. “They think it’s going to be the Tornadoes.”

“Yes Ron. I’m sure all Harry’s been disappearing at lunch for is to figure out which team will come top of the league.” Hermione dropped onto the couch beside Ron who looked like he was about to protest but thought better of it. “So, care to share Harry?”

He didn’t, particularly, but seeing Hermione’s piercing stare and arched eyebrow – something he was sure she’d picked up from Professor McGonagall – he had to say something. 

“I’ve been---” looking around the common room he hesitated and lowered his voice. “I’ve been following him---Malfoy, that is.”

He expected as much but both Hermione and Ron looked confused, shocked. Ron looked a tiny bit sick actually. 

“What the bloody hell do you wanna do that for? The guy’s a menace, I don’t even know how he had the Hippogriffs’ bollocks to come back this year.”

“It’s what Dumbledore would have wanted, that’s what McGonagall’s been saying.” Hermione spoke quietly but even she didn’t look convinced. “That every student, regardless of what they... well, that every student who wanted to return could do so.” At this she looked up at Harry, shaking her head. “That’s all well and good Harry but I don’t see why you’d want anything to do with him. This isn’t---sixth year---you don’t think---”

“No! God no.” Harry shook his head vehemently. This felt completely different from sixth year. He found himself curious, not suspicious. He thought about the little tickle of pleasure he got from watching Malfoy this time around and decided that might be too much to share with his friends for the moment. “It’s difficult to explain.” Harry started. He wasn’t sure how well a rather red faced explanation of the _urge_ he had been feeling would come across so he tried a different tack. “I’m---intrigued by him, I think? After all that’s happened, he’s come back. It’s not like he’s come back to any friends, barely any of Slytherin house have decided to retake the year! You just have to, well, wonder really---” He trailed off, unsure as to whether that had explained anything at all. 

Hermione sighed, warning him to _‘just be careful’_. Ron shook his head and pursed his lips for a moment more but they were his best friends for good reason. “Can’t say I understand it mate.” Ron shrugged his broad shoulders, leaned back into the couch and smirked. “Then again, you’ve never really been all that normal, have you ‘oh Chosen One’?” The trio burst into a laugh as Harry lobbed his cushion at Ron.

***

Eighth time is a charm? That, clearly, wasn’t the way the phrase went but Harry shrugged as he placed his hand on the bathroom doorknob. Before he thought about it too hard – and ran away again - he took a deep breath and entered the room. It looked the same as it did in his memory, save for a few things; the broken sink basins had been repaired, there was no water flooding the floor and Malfoy’s bleeding and broken body wasn’t laid out in front of him. Speaking of Malfoy…

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing Potter?” 

The familiar dulcet – or more accurately – hissed tones of Draco Malfoy reached Harry’s ears before a familiar body peered from around the corner of the cubicles. Harry couldn’t help but be pleased to find the patented Malfoy sneer on the older boy’s face. He hadn’t realised that, in a slightly pathetic way, he had missed it.

“Didn’t realise this was your own personal bathroom Malfoy? Your bodily functions must be perfectly timed, every day on the dot you’re in here.” Harry felt he had said too much, given up too much but the words had just slipped out, too eager to know what was going on.

“Merlin’s robes, this is like sixth year all over again.” Malfoy shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He must have realised what he had said at the same time Harry’s mind had taken him back to sixth year and what had occurred right where they stood. Both grey and green eyes slid to the floor where Malfoy had almost died.

Snide comments, as comfortable as they were being traded between the two, would not move the conversation on. Harry decided to try something different and just talk to the other boy. “I just--- I guess I just don’t know why you’d want to come back _here_ of all places.”

A snort was his first response followed quickly by Malfoy swinging himself around and placing – more delicate then he’d probably like to admit – hands on straight hips. Harry didn’t have time to contemplate just _when_ he’d decided Malfoy’s hands were anything other than normal hands before the blonde spoke up again.

“Why do you need to know? Does it frustrate you so much that The Chosen One managed to save the world but failed to take out one more Death Eater on the way?” Grey eyes pierced his own at the same time that anger rose up in Harry’s throat. There was only so much Harry could take and Malfoy had always somehow managed to rile his temper. 

“You tried to curse me first, Malfoy!”

“You tried to kill me!”

“I didn’t mean to, that wasn’t my intention I mean---” Harry ran a hand through his own nest of hair in frustration “--- I didn’t even know what that spell would do!”

“Well, that’s fantastic Potter! Just bloody fantastic - very, very comforting in fact. Come to think of it, that exact thought would have been so reassuring to know whilst I was laying in the infirmary feeling my skin stitch itself back together.” 

Harry flinched back at that. They both went quiet, Malfoy’s rage seemed to have lessened at least and the only sounds left in the echoing room were the heavy breaths of two teenage boys in the midst of – well, whatever this was.

“Look, Malfoy.” Harry started, slowly, quietly, after a pause. “I won’t say that I’m sorry for defending myself – because I’m not.” He said quickly before the other boy had chance to respond. “But I will say that I am sorry that I hurt you. That – that honestly wasn’t my intention.” 

And it wasn’t, Harry knew that deep in his heart. When he had entered the bathroom that weekday afternoon and had seen Malfoy, crying at the sink, his first thought had not been one of retaliation. It may not have been one of comfort, not at the time but it wasn’t one of hurt. Harry was sure of that. 

Malfoy’s anger deflated like a balloon. “Yes, well.” At this, he turned and picked up his bag. Slinging the strap over his shoulder Harry watched as he walked to the heavy oak door and pulled it open. The blonde hesitated, one foot out the door. “Apology accepted, Potter.” The door closed slowly as Harry smiled.

***  
The next day, lunch found Harry once again outside the bathroom, book bag in tow. He’d foregone lunch in favour of grabbing a sandwich that he’d scoffed on the way upstairs, bypassed Ron and Hermione and found himself entering the room before he’d really thought about it. He found Draco sat perched against the wall, book open on his lap and hand hovering over his wand. Yes, Draco now, not Malfoy. Malfoy had been the boy he had met at Madam Malkin’s, who had held all the prejudices Harry hadn’t and still didn’t agree with. But who Harry had never taken the time to _try_ with. Maybe then hadn’t been the right time, maybe now wasn’t either but he was going to try. With that in mind, he figured if he was trying to extend the hand of friendship, he could at least call him by his first name. Though perhaps not out loud, not just yet.

“What is it now, Potter?” Draco sighed but in all honesty, didn’t sound that put out.

Harry looked at the boy before him and pursed his lips in thought. Hermione had reminded him last night – after demanding that he at least take a decent lunch with him, if he was going ahead with his mad stalking scheme – that a year ago he would have told anyone that asked that he and Draco Sodding Malfoy would never be friends, that even the idea was laughable. He had thought about it and reminded her that a year can change one’s perspective on a lot of things, feelings included and had pointedly looked to Ron who’d fallen asleep on his History of Magic essay. Hermione had blushed at that and reprimanded him from distracting her from her studies. He’d shook his head fondly at her, glad that not quite everything had changed. 

“Potter, be a dear and stop sucking on your lips. You look like a fish. I asked what it was you were doing here.” Draco raised a well-shaped eyebrow.

Stepping forward Harry dropped his book bag to the floor and sat in front of the older boy. Pulling his Potions essay from his bag along with quill and ink, he sat them to his side. “Studying.” He said succinctly. 

Draco raised his other eyebrow at this and Harry couldn’t help but notice how dark his eyebrows and lashes were in comparison to his ghostly white hair. “Studying? In the bathroom? Are you completely out of your mind Potter?” 

Harry bit the tip of his tongue and breathed deeply, not wanting to respond in kind. ‘Kill them with kindness’, Molly Weasley had once told him. “Yes, yes and well, yes apparently. Also, not to point it out but _you’re_ studying in the bathroom.” He whispered, trying for a cheeky smile.

“Yes, well. Right.” Draco responded, clearing his throat. The smile must have worked as Harry’s eyes widened at the pink that had started to develop on Draco’s cheekbones. Draco dropped his chin down to his chest to concentrate on his book so Harry decided now would be as good a time as any to try and get some work done.

That, however, was easier said than done. Harry’s quill seemed to hover over the parchment but refused to touch it. He told himself that maybe his quill was cursed or that maybe he could get away with telling Professor Slughorn that a Kneazle had stolen his essay which was obviously full to the brim of great, insightful information about the Sleeping Draught they had been working on. Maybe, he could nip to Hogsmeade before the essay was due, buy a box of ice mice to give to Ron to try and butter _him_ up to then get him try and butter _Hermione_ up to hel- his master plan was brought to a halt when he felt an insistent foot kicking his.

“Godric’s grey hair Potter, you look absolutely senseless. You sound as if you’re going to pass out and I don’t feel like explaining to Madam Pomfrey why you keeled over in a bathroom alone with me, so if you could just be a dear and stop it.” Draco sneered but Harry couldn’t miss the shot of concern in those grey eyes. He also realised that he had been getting a bit worked up. 

“Sorry Dra- Malfoy.” He noticed Draco’s eyes widen at the almost use of his name. “It’s just---” It was then that Harry realised that the best student in Potions was sat in front of him, ready and waiting and willing to be taken advantage of. Okay, perhaps not ready, or waiting or at all willing to be taken advantage of - Harry shook his head free of the images that conjured – but still, he was here and he _owed_ him. “Any chance you could see yourself assisting a fellow student in not failing on his next Potions essay, thereby potentially ruining any chances of gaining a passing grade on his NEWTs?” 

Draco, much to Harry’s surprise, laughed out loud at this. “I’m sorry, you appeared to have mistaken me for Granger.” To his credit, Draco had at least used Hermione’s name. It was time for Harry to pull out his trump card.

“You owe me a life debt Malfoy.”

At this Draco ceased laughing, all traces of humour gone. Harry was a little upset at having caused the tension in the room to ratchet up but tried to match Draco’s serious stare.

“You can’t be serious Potter. You can’t cancel out a life debt simply by helping on a Potions essay.” Draco looked at him like he was mad.

“Okay, fine then. How about helping just for the sake of it. You know, new leaf, clean slate and all that.” Harry trailed off, figuring it was a lost cause at this point as Draco’s arched eyebrow reached new heights. Harry was therefore noticeably surprised when heartbeats later Draco slid his textbook from his lap and scooted over to sit by Harry’s side, not quite touching.

“Which part are you stuck on then?” Draco asked quietly. Harry sheepishly showed him the empty parchment and the other boy tutted and shook his head. “Right, fine. Grab your textbook then and I’ll help.” He said softly.

Harry just blinked, shocked until a click of Draco’s fingers had him scrambling in his bag for his textbook. His heart warmed when he heard the soft chuckle to his side.

***

They don’t meet anywhere but the bathroom. It’s always the bathroom, it’s always at lunchtime and it’s always just the two of them. Harry finds himself looking forward to lunchtime more and more each day. His eyes catch Draco everywhere now. But he’s quite sick of meeting in the bathroom.

As he enters he finds Draco in his usual place on the floor, book open on his lap. The older boy looks up at him and smiles, slightly.

The smile is soon wiped away.

“Come outside with me.” Harry says firmly.

Draco purses his lips and looks back down to his book. “And why would I want to do that?”

“Because I’m sick of staring at the same four walls and I think both of us have smelt enough urinal cake for a lifetime.” Harry sighs gently and thinks a touch of manipulation is in order. “C’mon, we could go outside. Get some fresh air, I hear it’s good for growing boys. Please, Draco.”

That does it, Draco’s fingers stall on the line he’s been reading and he makes a thoughtful sound and that’s when Harry knows he’s won. He waits though, lets the blonde think he’s waiting for a yes or no, taps a foot against the hard stone floor.

“Fine.” Draco rises elegantly from the floor and Harry can’t help but grin.

***

Perhaps this wasn’t as easy as Harry thought. As soon as he had shouted ‘accio broom!’ Draco’s face had taken on a decidedly sour expression.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing Potter? You brought me out here to fly off, you tosser?”

Harry grins at the morose look on Draco’s face before he cocks a leg over his broom and steady’s himself. “Course not you great lummock, I want you to fly with me.” Harry’s confused when Draco’s face falls quite suddenly, his arms coming up to hold himself.

“Don’t have my broom with me Potter. Besides, don’t fly all that much these days anyway.” And with that he turns his face away, like he shouldn’t have made Harry privy to that information but he has.

“Why not? You used to love flying? Pretty good at it as far as I remember.” Harry thinks back to that first class when Draco had shot off on his broom. Smarmy prick, even then. Harry laughs at the thought until he realises Draco’s taken a couple of steps back towards the castle.

“Last time I was on a broom Potter, it didn’t go so well.” Draco’s steps falter and that’s when Harry realises what he’s referring to.

“Oh--- yes, well.” He coughs, a tad uncomfortable at the fact that he didn’t consider that last time Draco might’ve been on a broom was the day Harry had saved him from a fiery and painful death. “You know what they say, if you fall off the horse---”

Draco looks at him strangely before Harry figures that he probably doesn’t understand the muggle expression. He reaches a hand out. “Please Draco. Fly with me.”

He doesn’t know whether it’s the fact that he’s offering his hand out to Draco, or the use of his first name but he watches as the blonde boy bites his lip in deliberation, eyes wide. It isn’t long before Harry has to contain his smile as Draco climbs up behind him, hands gingerly coming around his middle.

“Fine Potter, we’ll have it your way. But I’d prefer if this stays between us.” He mumbles in Harry’s ear.

Harry grins as he kicks off the ground. “No problem.”

They fly around the castle, over the lake and the forest for a good twenty minutes, the first five of which Draco is holding so tightly to Harry’s middle he thinks he might be bruised. He soon loosens up though, and as Harry drops down to the lake, low enough that their feet get a little wet he hears the whooping and hollering from the lad behind him and he thinks it all worth it.

It feels good to do something nice for someone else.

Sooner than they’d both probably like, they come to land but neither dismount the broom. They’re both breathing heavily, odd considering the brooms done the majority of the work. Draco’s arms are still around Harry’s middle and he finds that he’s in no great rush to remove them and that is definitely a thought he doesn’t want to dwell on until later, perhaps.

“Potter---” He hears Draco, quiet in his ear. “---Thank you, Harry.”

Harry startles, whipping his head around not at all containing his shock. “S’only a broom ride Draco. No need to thank me.”

Draco shakes his head, eyes down. “Not for that. Just that anyway. I never thanked you, for saving my life that day.” He looks up then, those almost non-existent eyebrows drawn together in seriousness. “Thank you, Harry. For saving my life when you didn’t have to.”

And what in bloody Filch’s name was Harry supposed to say to that? ‘You’re welcome’ was entirely uncalled for, he wasn’t that much of a pompous prat. He nodded his head stupidly instead. 

It was just about then that Harry Potter entered an entirely different universe in which Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and all around annoying idiot was taken over by aliens, or Blast-Ended Skrewts or something entirely other than himself because he _hugged him_. 

Well, he hugged him and ran. Before Harry had barely registered the warm squeeze to his middle, the chest pressed closer against his back, Draco was already half way back into the castle and Harry was contemplating throwing himself into the Great Lake to cool off.

He drifted a hand down to where Draco had been clutching him the entire ride. He felt a pleasurable tingle zip around his midriff. He swallowed. He was definitely taking that dip in the lake.

***

“Well?” Draco is insistent in his prodding until Harry smiles and hands over his potions essay. Draco scans it quickly before looking up with a triumphant grin. “Excellent mark. Not as high as mine would have been of course. But still, just goes to show what you can do when you’ve got the best potions tutor in the school at your side.”

“Erm, sorry Draco but you seem to have left your slice of humble pie at the lunch table.” Harry plucks the essay back and stuffs it back into his bag. “But yeah, thanks a lot. I really do appreciate it. I thought Slughorn was going to have a heart attack when he handed it back.”

Side to side, backs propped up against the wall they sat in the bathroom. As odd as it seemed this had now become ‘their space’ and Harry was happy to have more positive memories of the room now. He looked forward to his time with Draco, here in this bathroom where when the light came through the windows at the right angle it made the blonde hair look just that much more luminescent and- oh. Shit. 

“You know Harry.” Draco started, quite casually leaning back to peruse the bed of his – probably manicured - nails. “Sometimes I think you’re as subtle as a charging Erumpent.”

Fuck. Fuck, shit, fuck and shit and bloody bastard. He’d been remiss to forget that Draco was quite skilled at Legilimency. Ever since that bloody broom ride his mind had seemingly packed its bags, waved adios and taken an extended holiday as his hormones took up shop instead. So that time last week when he’d been thinking about what Draco might look like under that pristine robe and then again yesterday when he’d been staring at him innocently walking through the corridor and couldn’t quite help but think about the sway of his hips and - shitting fucking fuck. 

“You stare at me.” Draco’s grey eyes caught his and Harry couldn’t look away. “You stare at me and it’s not the same way it was in sixth year. Not the same at all.” Draco’s voice dropped off quietly as the slightly older boy shifted his body towards Harry and a slender fingered hand raised slowly, carefully to cup Harry’s probably rather red cheek. “Oh Salazar Harry, if I’m wrong about this then I might just have to obliviate you.”

Harry, in all his wisdom (not that he had much, if any) took that threat for what it was and decided to put Draco’s nerves to rest. Tilting his chin up, his dry lips pressed gently against Draco’s and warm air caressed his face as both boys sighed out through their noses. Their lips moulded together as Harry found one hand gripping Draco’s robe and the other sliding through that oh so soft hair. A few lip smacks later they pulled apart, noses brushing. 

“Maybe I should go see Madam Pomfrey?” Draco asked, the smile on his face wide and toothy.

“And why is that?” Harry tried for serious but couldn’t help but snort.

“I seem to have fallen for you Potty. Clearly I mustn’t be in my right mind.” 

“Well, that does sound serious indeed.” Harry nodded, eyebrows trying for stern but missing the mark completely. “Perhaps I should come with you, I seem to have developed a case of Malfoy-itis.”

At this they both broke into fits of not at all mature giggles until Harry slid further to the floor, pulling Draco down with him. Between snorting fits of laughter - _’what are the symptoms?’, ‘yes, well that sounds very contagious – be sure not to spread it around now Harry’_ \- they finally quieted and Draco dropped his head to rest on Harry’s chest, the latter’s fingers still moving through that fine hair. 

“People won’t like it.” Draco’s voice was quiet but the comment reverberated through Harry’s chest all the same.

“Well, as much as I don’t want to blow my own trumpet-” at this Draco sniggered and Harry tugged on a lock of blonde hair “I think I’ve done plenty enough to make that choice for myself. And I like it so, there.” He ended with a firm nod.

And that, Harry thought grinning down at the sharp features of the boy in his lap, really was that.

**Author's Note:**

> Not a new take on the 'Harry and Draco fall madly in love' train but I chuckled while writing it :) Also, heavy on the fluff. It's a problem I have.  
> [tumblr :)](https://matchst-ck.tumblr.com/)


End file.
